Chapter Eleven: Alex
"Alex!"
Blood stained the side of the white ceramic bathtub she was in.
"Alex!"
It coated her skin as she scooped up a handful of it and poured it over her head, wiping away the excess that had gotten in her eyes.
"Alex!"
A rubber duck floated by in the viscous liquid.
It turned it's head and squeaked at her.
"Alex!"
Alex
It had been two days wince we'd been trapped in Beacon Hills High and just as many since I'd had a decent nights sleep.
I was going insane. I was sure of it.
I'd woken up the night after the school incident with my legs covered in scratches. I must have inflicted them on myself because they were claw marks and my nail beds had been caked with blood. So had my sheets. I had to wash them twice to get out the stains.
The second night I'd dreamt of blood. It seemed to be a recurring theme for me lately. I'd woken up screaming bloody murder.
That was why Allison had insisted on sleeping with me last night, and also why I had a boney elbow wedged in between my third and fourth rib. I groaned loudly with the intention of waking her up. If I wasn't sleeping, neither was she. Besides, the sun was up anyway and that made me feel less guilty.
The events at the school had taken it's toll on everyone who had been there, not just me. Allison seemed to be taking it especially hard. She'd broken up with Scott because she knew he was lying about something. Allison may have been kept in the dark for years by our family about our family - but she was still an Argent. We were perceptive little fuckers.
I think she knows I've been lying, too. Sometimes I catch her looking at me with skepticism in her dark brown eyes. It scares me because I know she's going to put the pieces together soon. I would be stupid to underestimate her. It's only a matter of time.
Allison stirred beside me and stretched out, like a cat.
"G'morning." She mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. I was jealous. "How'd you sleep?"
"Ask your elbow." I said hatefully.
"Sorry." She smiled sheepishly, fully opening her eyes. When she did, they widened, "Oh, Alex . . ."
"What?" I questioned the motherly tone she was taking with me and I felt a little self conscious.
"You're bleeding." She said, standing from the bed to get me a tissue and she sighed. "Again."
I looked down at my body, half obscured by the sheets on my bed. Allison was right, I'd scratched at my legs again, reopening the steadily healing wounds.
At least there wasn't as much blood on the sheets this time.
We began methodically stripping my bed in silence. Allison had questioned me about what had happened to me at the school that night, she was getting worried about how it was affecting me, but I had curbed every attempt she made to get me to talk about it. It seemed like she was accepting that I wanted to keep it private. But I saw the looks of concern she'd been giving me in between those looks of skepticism.
We were in the process of shoving everything in the hamper when our dad walked in, without warning, as per usual. He looked down at what we were doing and then back up at us with a raised eyebrow.
"Allison wet the bed." I laughed, hoping it didn't sound as nervous as I though it did. Allison hit me lightly on the arm muttering, 'did not' as I slid my legs out of view by standing behind the bed.
The only thing I had talked to Allison about was not telling my dad about the unconscious self harm I was apparently afflicting on myself and the nightmares that plagued me nearly every waking minute. I felt like it would cause more problems than it would solve if he knew. Allison hadn't liked the idea but she'd agreed nonetheless.
"I think you two should stay home again today." Dad said, ignoring the bed wetting comment and crossing his arms over his chest. "It's Friday, anyway."
"I don't want to, dad." Allison pouted.
I rolled my eyes at her back. She probably just wanted the go to school and see Scott sulking around first hand and get proof that he was as miserable without Allison as Stiles had been reporting.
"I'll stay home." I shrugged.
"How did I know you'd snatch up that offer." My dad smiled in a paternal way that may have been real, but I figured it was just because Allison was here.
"This is me, not looking a gift horse in the mouth." I drawled, busying myself with stripping the pillowcases.
"Well, I just want you two to know that you don't have to go if you don't want." He summed up and turned towards the door, "I'm going to work, oh, and you have a visitor."
He opened the door a little wider to reveal Stiles, who I seriously hoped had not been standing there the whole time. He was scratching the back of his neck awkwardly like he wished he hadn't been, either.
"Uh, hey." He said, making room for my dad to exit my room and down the stairs. He shuffled into the room and I stifled a laugh. Stiles Stilinski, the pinnacle of awkward.
"Come in, Stilinski." I offered, smoothing my hair down, wondering how tragic I looked right now. "You can help me convince Allison to ditch school with me and piss on the sanctity of education."
"Sounds fun." He chuckled, "Though, I did come here to convince you to come to school."
Allison smiled like she'd won a prize.
"Well," I drawled, "How about I invite you to ditch with us?" I sat on the bed and put my head in my hands, sporting a huge fake smile. Stiles' eyes flickered down to my scratched legs and his gaze roamed over them. I'd forgotten to keep them covered. I was surprised when he didn't say anything about the weird wounds and he smiled at me instead.
I looked to Allison with a raised brow, the ball was in her court.
"Fine." She said after a moment, shaking her head like she was babysitting a pair of two year olds. "What are we going to do anyway?"
I patted the expanse of the bed beside me so Stiles would take a seat and I said the first thing that came to mind, "Get drunk."
.
It didn't take much to convince either Allison or Stiles that this was the perfect way to spend a parentally sanctioned ditch day.
I texted our dad telling him that we were going to go hiking to clear our heads and when I didn't receive a response I figured we'd been given the go ahead. The three of us piled into Stiles' Jeep and I threw the duffle bag I'd packed with slutty clothes at Allison. She dodged it and glared at me.
We all had fake I.D's, but Stiles' was pretty shitty and he blushed when told us that it hadn't worked for him yet. So we decided to try our luck in the next town over, with tight little bandage dresses as our security blanket.
When I made that joke as I showcased the dresses on the hangers before I packed them, Stiles had made a weird choking sound and muttered something about it not being a very warm blanket. I packed them anyways.
Stiles was blathering on in the drivers seat about how boring school had been since we'd broken in. I watched Allison's face and muscles stiffen when he mentioned Scott's name.
I feel bad for her.
I feel bad for Scott, too.
Hell, I feel bad for me.
Getting drunk today was very necessary. Except, maybe, for Stiles. He seemed to be coping exceptionally well with almost being murdered. Though, he didn't fall head first into fifteen feet of blood (that actually turned out just to be pool water) trying to go after keys (that actually turned out not to have been there at all).
The nose bleeds and scratching weren't easing my mind either, so I tried to focus on whatever nonsense Stiles was talking about now.
". . . I didn't realize how much time we spend together, Alex." He said and I regarded him with a deep crease in my forehead.
"Where you going with this?"
"Nothing, nowhere." He said defensively putting his hands up, only to return them to the wheel when the car swerved. "It's just," He continued, trying to sound casual, "I just noticed, because you were gone, that I missed you, I guess."
He finished trying to explain himself and looked frustrated, like he hoped that would have sounded better or more eloquent. I smiled despite his awkwardness, because he was being sweet.
"I'll try not to nearly drown next time we break and enter." I snorted, "Purely for your benefit."
"That's all I ask." He smiled, just a little, as the blush faded from his cheeks.
"How can you two joke about this?" Muttered Allison, who had mostly been silent the duration of the car ride. Her mouth was turned down at the corners, she was unhappy and not bothering to hide it. "Nothing about what happened to us is funny."
"I know, Allison." I said, trying to sound sympathetic and feeling like I hadn't pulled it off. I kicked my feet up onto the dashboard as Stiles glared at me from the corner of his eyes. He hated when I did that. "But if we don't laugh, we cry."
She'd done enough of that.
"Scott wanted me to say, 'hello'." Stiles said slowly, treading lightly like I was. We were both peering at her like protective parents in the rear view mirror.
Allison said nothing, looking out the window with a distant look in her eye while she fiddled with a pendant on a chain around her neck. I squinted at it with interest, noticing that it looked familiar. When Allison moved her thumb, I knew why.
"Where did you get that necklace?" I asked trying to keep the glare off of my face and remember that I was trying to tread lightly. I'd never been good at that.
Allison looked startled by my tone, "Aunt Kate gave it to me yesterday morning." She explained simply.
I had turned around in the passengers side to get a better look at the chain and when I sat back in my seat properly I glared hatefully at the road a head of us and remained stubbornly silent for the rest of the trip.
.
"Ow!" Allison grumbled, "Alex, you just kicked me in the spleen."
"I'm surprised it missed your big, fat head." I grumbled back petulantly as I tried to shove the scrap of a dress over my head in the backseat of Stiles' Jeep.
Allison was horizontal, with one foot propped up on the cars roof so she wouldn't tumble onto the dirty floor.
"Woah, Allison!" I proclaimed dramatically, covering my eyes, "That's more of you than I ever needed to see."
Allison's cheeks stained with embarrassment and I smiled wickedly.
"This was your stupid idea." She muttered, finally getting her arm though the strap she'd been at war with the the better part of five minutes. "Is he looking?"
I pulled myself up into an upright position, sighing with the effort I'd just exerted. I peered out of the window at Stiles, who we'd kicked out of the car so we could change, and also so he could keep a lookout.
"No, he's not looking." I confirmed. Stiles was faced away from us, hands shoved casually into his jean pockets and he was tapping his foot against the ground. I smiled warmly when two men walked past the car and he shuffled along the length of the Jeep, shadowing their movements so they couldn't see in the car.
When we exited the Jeep he offered us both a hand, which Allison accepted and I ignored.
"Fakes at the ready, men!" I said with a mock salute and then ruffling my hair, which I'm sure it didn't need after flailing around in the back of Stiles' rolling garbage can.
Allison had already sauntered up to the front door of the bar and I took a few steps forward to follow suit when I noticed Stiles had stopped moving to stare at me. I stopped moving to stare back challengingly.
I couldn't blame him, really. The dresses I'd picked were picked for reason. I flicked my gaze to the bar and then back to him and breezed past, shaking my head.
Boys.
Allison's dress was far better suited for the male gaze. It fit her like a glove, though everything fit Allison like that. She was tall and willowy, with long graceful limbs, making her look like a runway model even when she was walking into a seedy dive bar and flashing her fake at the creepy door guy.
If I'd grown up with more time to be envious, I would have been of Allison. Years of training, weights and cardio had affected my body, making it curvy and toned, I didn't look anything like my sister.
I flashed my fake at the bouncer, an old man who looked at my tits longer than he did my fake date of birth.
I followed Allison to a table in the middle of the bar, which was fairly busy for a weekday afternoon, I felt Stiles following closely behind me, he pulled out my chair for me and I scowled at the gesture.
"I wish you weren't wearing that." He muttered in a low voice against the shell of my ear as he pushed my chair in. I turned around to scold him for thinking he had any right to comment on my choice of outfit, but when I met his darkened eyes all that came out was an embarrassing high pitched choking sound. He almost looked dangerous for a moment, with his pupils dilated in what I could only identify as lust.
I faced forward before I did anything else totally mortifying. I avoided eye contact with him when he sat down beside me.
I was thankful when the waitress came to the table, breaking the silence that seemed overwhelming to me, and took our orders.
"This place is . . . nice?" Said Allison, glancing around, her attention getting caught on a rambunctious group of men hollering obnoxiously by the pool tables.
"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, shaking off the tension I felt towards Stiles, "This place is a pit, but that old man barely looked at our shitty I.D's, so who cares?" I declared, blowing a kiss to our waitress who had hurriedly slammed our drinks down on the table without a word and hurried off to the table of men that were snapping their fat fingers at her.
"What did you order?" Allison asked Stiles, who looked at his apple martini in horror. It was bright green in colour and the glass was garnished with an apple slice and a pink umbrella.
"I didn't think it would look like that." He said miserably, eyeing my pint of beer and accompanying tequila shots.
"Don't even think about it, Comrade." I said, with my eyebrows raised. I childishly slammed back both shots, eyes watering with the burning sensation in the back of my throat and then I licked the entire rim of my pint, just so he wouldn't get any funny ideas.
"Jesus." He said, looking impressed with my dedication.
"Here, Stiles." Allison said, taking pity on the poor boy and switching his martini glass with her gin and tonic with a sweet smile.
"Thank you, Allison." He said, all the while staring pointedly at me. I shrugged and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand trying to ignore how the introduction of alcohol to my system was making my stomach feel warm already.
"You are so uncouth." Allison smarted, turning her nose in the air and then promptly downing the stupid looking drink all in one go.
I raised my eyebrow at her.
"Apple doesn't fall far from it's sister." Stiles said with a smirk, he was only halfway through his drink.
"Apple martini doesn't fall far from a moron." I said, cringing at my lame joke. I could have done better.
We ordered another round and another, and sooner or later I'd lost track of how long we'd been here and how many drinks we had consumed. I did know that we were on our third pitcher and the sun had definitely gone down.
A lightness had settled over my body and a lazy smile had become a permanent fixture on my face as we all laughed at something Stiles was saying. A shadow fell over the table and I looked up with a smile thinking it was our glorious waitress who brought drinks and didn't initiate small talk. I was sorely disappointed when it turned out to be another man from that same annoying table near the back. He was peering down at me with a predatory smile that made my fingers itch.
"Not another one." Slurred Allison, shaking her head slowly, eyes never lifting from her newest apple martini.
"Beat it, Mouthbreather." I said, taking my time to look as bored as possible, I even flicked my hand dismissively much to Stiles' amusement.
"How about a drink, sweetheart?" He leaned in closely, and I cringed visibly. His breath smelt really bad and I may have told him as much, because Allison giggled and the man backed away from me a little. He didn't actually leave our table until I started to lackadaisically twirl a butter knife in my hand. Even when inebriated, I had mastered it. I stuck my tongue out juvenilely at the mans retreating back.
That table must have had a running bet going because that was the fifth man, in two hours that had offered to buy either Allison or myself a drink.
"He seemed nice." Stiles said sarcastically, laughing as he continued, "Why not give him a shot?"
I smiled at his ridiculousness and he smiled back. They were matching drunk smiles, ones that pulled the corners of your mouth in different directions and crinkled your nose at the tip.
"She won't give anyone a shot." Hiccoughed Allison, "Freddy Fields totally ruined her."
I smacked my hand against my forehead, "Allison, please spare the boy." I pleaded, "Fuck, spare me!"
"Allison," Said Stiles grinning at both of us, "By all means, continue."
"Freddy Fields broke Alex's heart." She explained into her pint, forming her words very slowly, "in grade five."
I groaned. I hate this story.
"We were nine years old," She started, setting the scene, "We were so excited because in grade five they did this program that, at nine years old, we thought was so cool. They supplied chocolate milk at lunch hour."
"Chocolate milk?" Asked Stiles, leaning forward across the table to listen closely.
"I guess parents paid a set fee at the beginning of the year or something because I remember Alex begging our dad for days before school started-"
"We both did!" I shouted indignantly, widening my eyes slightly at the volume of my own voice.
"We begged dad and he finally gave in. All the cool kids got chocolate milk at lunch and all of us would hangout on this one hill and drink it." She said with a nostalgic smile.
"This is such a lame story." I muttered, picking at my fingernails, but neither of them were listening to me.
"Alex found out that the love of her young life, Freddy Fields couldn't afford to join the milk program, so, she starts giving her milk to him. Everyday, for like a month." She stopped the story to take a sip of her drink and I watched Stiles' face melt with warmth at the sappy story. "I guess she was hoping that he would start sitting with us or something, but he never did."
My head was now firmly resting on the sticky, wooden table in shame.
"One day, after she gave him her milk, she followed him around the side of the school building where, get this," She paused to laugh, "Freddy was giving his chocolate milk to Lucy Glass!"
"My chocolate milk." I corrected angrily, and then under my breath, "Fucking Lucy fucking Glass."
Stiles was laughing as he spluttered out, "That's terrible!"
"Apparently," Allison said, effectively continuing my humiliation, "He'd been doing it for months. So Alex, little nine year old Alex, grabs the chocolate milk from Lucy's hand, throws it on the ground, and stomps on it." Allison was howling with laughter now and Stiles had joined in.
Lightweights, I thought bitterly.
"When they came back to class, all three of them were covered, head to toe in chocolate milk." She finished regaling Stiles with the story of my lost love just in time for our next round of drinks.
"So," Stiles said, still laughing as he thanked the waitress, "That was your origin story?" He was eyeing me with amusement, but also like I was something precious.
"Yep." Allison said, not realizing that he had been talking to me. "She was never the same after that." In the next breath, "I totally have to pee."
She stood from the table after her declaration and swayed a little on the spot. I made a quick move to stand with the intention of steadying her, but she glared at me, or tried to at least if her eyes would focus, "I'm fine."
I sat back against my chair knowing better than to try and help an unwilling Argent. I watched her make her way slowly through the throngs of people in search of a bathroom. When had it gotten so busy in here? I turned my attention back to the table where Stiles was focused on me with an unreadable expression.
"What?" I asked rudely, upset when my tone only made him smile wider.
"I've never heard that story."
"That's because I never told it to you." I said, like he was dumb.
"Well, why not?" He questioned, ignoring my tone. He still had that amused gleam in his eye and I wanted to kick him. "It humanizes you."
Whatever that means.
My plan in that moment was to shake off the humiliation and unease, and focus my attentions on getting as drunk as Allison, but my tongue felt loose and I couldn't have stopped the words even if I'd wanted to.
"Allison doesn't know the full story." I said, lowering my voice and starring down at the beer moving in my glass as I swirled it around.
"Okay." It was a simple urging.
"The day I found that asshat, Freddy Fields with Lucy," I sighed, wishing that the story was as simple as Allison had remembered it, "The night before, I'd witnessed my first kill."
I remembered the night as vividly as if it were yesterday. That kind of thing wasn't something you easily forgot. At nine years old, I had known what I had been born to do. I'd started light physical training and lessons from old dusty books that were much scarier than fairy tales, the year before. One night, Kate had dragged me from my bed, which had been stocked with pink pillows and stuffed bunnies, and she took me to the Warehouse that dad had set up in Pennsylvania, where we were living at the time.
She slaughtered six werewolves that night. They had all cried and pleaded for their lives.
Kate laughed when she cut off their heads.
Stiles didn't find the same amusement with my story that he had with Allison's and I almost felt bad for ruining his happiness about how 'humanized' I'd become with it's telling.
His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was deciding on which words to use, or like he didn't know what to say at all. What he did say, however, I was not expecting.
"It must be hard not having Allison to talk to about this stuff." He said, moving his hand slowly across the table and reaching one long finger out to touch my knuckle. He looked at me like he thought I would disappear if he were to touch anymore of me. His eyebrows creased as I looked to where our hands were so tentatively connected. "It must be hard knowing you had to go through all of this stuff that she'll never have to. It must be hard not to . . . " He trailed off and I knew it was because he didn't want to finish his sentence.
But I already knew what he was going to say.
"Resent her." I finished, overcome with guilt.
I had never said that out loud.
We shared a look that I'd never shared with anyone before. A look I had seen him share with Scott.
Understanding.
Author's Note:
Hello lovely readers!
I was overwhelmed by the response that the last chapter received. So many favourites and follows - and even some comments!
I had always planned to take this story in a darker direction, but this chapter was a bit of a filler. But one with a twist because it was in Alex's POV.
I did just want to clear up on misconception, though I will be exploring the concept of witches, Alex will not be one.
Please continue to comment and tell me how you think I'm doing, it really does encourage me to update faster!
Thanks for your time,
unadulteratedsedation
